The Lies We Tell Ourselves
by MatinaSnape
Summary: Severus Snape had always found Albus' sanity questionable at best, Harry Potter's sixth year was enough to put Albus on St. Mungo's list of hopeless cases... unquestionably.


Disclaimer: J. K. Rowling owns all these wonderful characters, and the history behind this fic, all I own is my imagination. Many thanks to her for giving me such great characters to play with.

On to the story!

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Chapter 1: Murderous Thoughts

On a bench across from the Bank of England, corner of Princess and Threadneedle, Muggle London, sat a man reading a newspaper. A normal sight to be seen in most any city. Sure it was kind of odd that he wore heavy all black, and well tailored clothes in the warmth of the summer's first heat wave. And maybe his black hair was longer than usual for a man of his age, but people could easily pass that off as a peculiarity, and the clothes as a sign of mourning. At any rate, with the flashes of green and neon pink hair in every style imaginable, and bodies in various states of undress, nobody really cared about the scowling man on the bench who was putting very little effort into actually reading the paper.

Said man wasn't reading the paper at all, he was lost deep in thought, and didn't care what it had to say anyway. His thoughts were very dark and distressing. While they were quite numerous, one was the foremost on his mind;

He was going to kill Albus Dumbledore.

No scratch that, he was going to find a way to bring Albus back from the dead, and then kill him for getting him into the mess that had been created by Dumbledore's death.

In all truthfulness, Severus Snape would have been content to have Dumbledore's All-Knowing-and-Ever-Irritating self back and cleaning up the huge mess that had been made of the once Potion Professor's life. And perhaps the chance to give a few well placed and much deserved snide remarks.

'Everything will work out in the end, Severus,' Dumbledore had said. Severus wondered what had been clouding the Headmaster's inner eye when he had given that highly clichèd assurance. Perhaps the twinkling of his eyes had finally blinded him. The ex-Professor knew that Albus couldn't have intended to die at the end of Potter's sixth year, and especially at Severus' own wand. He'd known about the possibility that such an occurrence could possibly take place, but as far as Severus knew and hoped, he hadn't planned on it. He could remember their discussion clearly. They had been discussing Severus' latest discovery, or lack thereof resulting from his spying activities.

"Severus, you can't possibly bring back important information from every meeting you attend," the headmaster told Severus, looking at him with concern from behind his trinket filled desk. "You've already done so much for the Order, more than ever expected of you."

"Yet we still don't know of Draco's plans, or even who exactly his intended target is." he replied sourly.

"Severus, we know there is a good chance that it is myself that Draco has been ordered to kill. Voldemort would not let anyone take away the satisfaction of killing Harry Potter himself. " the headmaster responded frankly, "But I need you to promise me something. If, by some chance, fate finds me weak enough to be defenseless against those that would have me dead, you must kill me."

"No! Absolutely not. I refuse Albus. There is no way I would consider it!" the professor cried. He shot Dumbledore a look of disbelief.

Albus smiled gently at him. "My boy, I do believe it would be better for you to survive and remain in Voldemort's good graces than for both of us to die because you broke an unbreakable vow." he paused, "Besides, I'm likely to be able to handle any threats to my person anyway."

"I still don't believe..."

"Severus, promise me you will. You have to trust me. Please put as much faith me as I do in you." the headmaster pleaded, cutting the Potions Professor off. Severus sighed.

"Fine." he spat, "It never ceases to amaze me how you manage to guilt trip me into doing your bidding."

"Thank you Severus, I know it must be hard having two taskmasters trying to control you." Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

After that meeting he hadn't been able to shake a bad feeling about having given his word, and on another occasion had argued with Dumbledore that he couldn't go through with it, but to no avail.

After a horrible series events he ended sitting on a busy London sidewalk, muggle London no less, hiding from his world and all those who wanted vengeance for the murder of the their beloved leader. The only key he had to getting out of the whole mess was the safety deposit box key Albus had given him that he had safely stowed in his pocket. A box being housed inside the bank across the street from him.

He sighed as he folded the paper, placing it on the seat next to him, finally deciding that he would risk going in and hoping dearly that the Ministry of Magic hadn't yet put his name out on any muggle wanted listings. He crossed the street, took a deep breath and entered the large glass doors of the Bank of London.

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Please R&R. Criticism is what makes us try harder.


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